Language: French (Français)
Our translations: ENG SPA
Dans ma cervelle se promène,
Ainsi qu’en son appartement,
Un beau chat, fort, doux et charmant ;
Quand il miaule, on l’entend à peine,
Tant son timbre est tendre et discret ;
Mais que sa voix s’apaise ou gronde,
Elle est toujours suave et profonde.
C’est là son charme et son secret.
Cette voix, qui perle et qui filtre
Dans mon fonds le plus ténébreux,
Me remplit comme un vers nombreux
Et me pénètre comme un philtre.
Elle endort les plus cruels maux
Et contient toutes les extases ;
Pour dire les plus longues phrases,
Elle n’a pas besoin de mots.
Non, il n’est pas d’archet qui morde
Sur mon cœur, parfait instrument,
Et fasse plus royalement
Chanter sa plus vibrante corde
Que ta voix, chat mystérieux,
Chat séraphique, chat étrange,
En qui tout est, comme en un ange,
Aussi subtil qu’harmonieux.
...
Note: the text above is taken from stanzas 1-6 of the original text.
Composition:
Text Authorship:
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CZE Czech (Čeština) (Jaroslav Haasz) , "Kot", Prague, J. Otto, first published 1919
- ENG English (Grant Hicks) , copyright © 2026, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- SPA Spanish (Español) (Juan Henríquez Concepción) , "El gato", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Research team for this page: Emily Ezust
[Administrator] , Grant Hicks
[Guest Editor] , Poom Andrew Pipatjarasgit
[Guest Editor] This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 40
Word count: 226
Language: English after the French (Français)
In my brain there strolls about,
As if in his own apartment,
A beautiful cat, strong, gentle and charming;
When he meows, one can hardly hear it,
So tender and reserved is his tone;
But whether his voice soothes or scolds
It is always mellow and deep.
This is his charm and his secret.
This voice, that drips and filters
Into my darkest depths,
Fills me like euphonious verse
And pervades me like a potion.
It puts the cruelest ills to sleep
And contains every ecstasy;
To utter even the longest phrases
It has no need of words.
No, there is no bow that can bite
Into my heart, a perfect instrument,
And draw more regal music
From its most vibrant string
Than your voice, mysterious cat,
Seraphic cat, strange cat,
In whom, as in an angel, everything is
As subtle as it is harmonious.
...
Note: the text above is taken from stanzas 1-6 of the original text.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2026 by Grant Hicks, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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This text was added to the website: 2026-03-20
Line count: 40
Word count: 242
